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It all started last summer with a Groupon and four women who should’ve always been friends but somehow missed each other. I was friends with two, Kayla was friends with two, and there we were, attempting to join what should have been joined from the start.

It was blistering hot and I was in a terrible mood. I whirled around, changing my outfit over and over (something I never do) and I was honest with them:

I am in a terrible mood.

They agreed with me, kindly of course, and we piled into my convertible and hit the highway.

We drove north, through country I didn’t recognize, and as the wind slapped my hair across my face and I sipped a melting Dunkin’ iced coffee, I felt my mood begin to lift. I listened to their yelling over the wind and I allowed myself to enjoy the company of three young women whose laughter rose up and out of the car.

That was June 2013, and this was Saturday, March 8th, 2014. Another Groupon in tow and a switched-out friend found us on similar roads but a different route.

My New Hampshire friend discovered another vineyard – right in the heart of country I thought too cold to grow – and I found myself nine months older and a whole lot different than I’d been before.

For starters, I was in a fabulous mood, probably due to the sunshine and the delicious dirty chai I’d consumed.

Kate wore her floppy hat and I wore a bright red skirt because there’s something about going wine tasting that calls for elegance. And good smoked gouda.

The air was spring-like, despite the snow on the ground, and my face felt the sun for what felt like the first time. Katie’s yellow dress was “too soon,” according to her, but just right, really.

What did we talk about? Silly things, mostly, and that’s exactly what I needed. Moments of teasing and joking and forgetting the schedule of everything.

The Good Thing this week is by far one of my favorites.

When the string of candids is as perfect as the actual.

When each wine tastes delicious in its own way.

When you get a tour from the owner of the vineyard and fall a little bit in love with his white hair and blue eyes because who doesn’t love someone who loves something deeply?

Wine Tasting. I’ve officially become classy, thanks to three lovely friends and a $28 Groupon. We drove forty minutes up through beautiful farm land, and despite the 95-degree weather, the convertible top was down and hair was flying. This may have detracted from our classy entrance, but sweat aside, we were fabulous.

We each got to try six wines, and we even got a cheese plate with the deal. Not bad for $7. We all came in declaring our love for dry vs. sweet, but the four of us asked if we could use our last three tastes to get the raspberry wine. Oh my gosh. I’ve tried to like fruit wines, but this is the only one that I prefer to good ole grape. Kate bought a bottle and I should’ve bought a bottle, but all the more incentive to pick a lot of raspberries in July.

Weekend Getaways. These could not be overrated. An overnight to celebrate a birthday, a hotel room with seven girls (wait, did I say seven? I mean only the two on the receipt, sir!) and extra blankets and towels. We spent Saturday at the beach in abnormally sweltering heat for the first of June. I downed my lemonade before I even got to the sand, and I probably went in the water a record seven times. Then out to dinner at a nice Mexican restaurant (Um, could we have more chips please? And yes, I need more water. Again.) and then on to dancing.

[A man with curly dark hair down to his waist danced the night away. He was flinging that mane all over the joint, and we tried not to stare in horror. We didn’t try that hard. What fascinated me was that women actually danced with him. One even stroked that mess of hair. Wow.]

And the best part of nights like that? Waking up slowly in the morning and heading to a local coffee shop for bagels and iced coffees. The people-watching is amazing in towns like that. I get so distracted.

Hello!

My name is Catherine. I’m so glad you’re here! This is a place I have loved for a long time, and as I have grown and changed, it has grown and changed. I am passionate about writing and connecting and living The Good Life. Won’t you join me?

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Silence can be prayer. Rage can be prayer. It's truth. It's all prayer.